Teenage Dream
by Jane Doel
Summary: When Kurt takes a tumble down the stairs at Dalton, he wakes up in an coma-induced dream world where he never left McKinley or met Blaine. Likewise, Blaine's been having a bit of a mental breakdown, being faced with a world without Kurt in it. Will their friendship change, or will Kurt never live to see the day? Set in Season Two before "Original Songs," AU!Klaine I don't own Glee.
1. Chapter 1: Sqweech

**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee.**

**Kurt's POV**

Kurt sighed.

Was it bad that he had such a huge crush on Blaine? Probably. But he didn't really care. It was nice to have a crush on someone who could _actually_ reciprocate it. Not that he would. But it was nice to know that he could.

The irksome soloist was like a catchy song that got stuck in Kurt's head, and he wouldn't come undone. Warblers practice was fun, but tiring and rather off-putting. All it really did was make Kurt miss the New Directions (even if the name sounded dirty if you said it too fast). And he would go back, too, if it wasn't for Karofsky. Kurt felt like sighing again.

How had things gotten this _tricky_?

He was on his way back to his dorm after a long, exhausting day of classes and practices and people and _ugh_. All he could think about was gossiping with Mercedes, or discussing Broadway with Rachel, or _something_ with _somebody_. His friends, the people who he's fairly certain are the only things keeping him going. Well, them and Blaine.

"Hey, Kurt!" someone said behind him said.

Kurt didn't even bother turning around. He knew who it was, and, more to the point, he didn't really have the energy.

"Hi, Wes," he sighed. Oops. Another sigh.

"What's wrong?" Wes's body sidled up next to Kurt's, and his voice sounded concerned.

"Nothing. Just tired." A pause. Why not? "And I miss my friends."

"Oh. I...understand. But just remember, though, the Warblers will always be there for you."

Kurt wanted to laugh. The Warblers. Yeah, sure.

Wes's hand squeezed Kurt's shoulder briefly, gave him a mildly encouraging smile, and walked off in the other direction.

Kurt thought about how, had it been Blaine, they would have fallen into easy conversation about _Vogue_. They would have both agreed that chevron was a pattern _not_ meant for shoes, and Kurt would have mentally kicked himself for his crush growing _that_ much bigger.

Kurt neared the staircase (you know, the one where Blaine and Kurt met?) and hopped onto the first step. But before he could continue, a boy (Thad? A white version of David? That dude from his AP French class?) moving very quickly shoved past Kurt. He was thrown off balance, and he reached out to steady himself on the rail.

He missed.

Kurt was sure he would have heard people yelling, but everyone had gone back to their dorms (even the dude who had knocked him down had mysteriously fled).

Besides, the first step that hit his head had really hurt, more than he thought, and the others hurt just as badly. If not, worse. Inside his head, he vaguely knew that he should be screaming or something, but the connection between his head and his mouth had been severed.

His head bashed and smashed on the (hard and _marble_) steps about twenty times, and, by the end, he was practically a liquidy-red rag-doll.

With the little thought he had left before he blacked out, he turned himself over onto his back and dug into his pocket. He scrambled with his hands and fingers, and he texted the first contact he could a message: _HELP!_

And then the black edging his vision blanketed his mind.

* * *

**Kurt's POV**

There was something _itchy_ wrapped around his head. Without moving or opening his eyes, he could tell that something _not_ good for his skin was squeezing the sleep out of his head.

In a burst of confusion, Kurt remembered what happened. Tumbling down the marble steps of _Where Blainey Met Kurtie_ was enough to land him in... Wherever he was. He saw sunlight through his eyelids, so he must have been out for awhile (hadn't it been dark when he'd fallen?).

Knowing whatever he did would hurt, Kurt _slowly_ opened his eyes and _slowly_ raised his head and _slowly_ sat up. It still hurt. A lot.

Taking in his surroundings (_slowly_), he noticed something was...off.

Mercedes was standing next to his cot. She was jumping, yelling silently. That meant that either he was dead, or his head was so messed up that he had lost his hearing and his mind.

"-rt! He's... -king up! C'mere, qui-" Her voice faded in and out, but that meant that his hearing was coming back.

"'Cedes? What're ya doin' 'ere? Are we in the hospital?" he asked groggily.

"Boo, we're just in the nurse's office at McKinley. Nowhere new. How're you feelin'?" she said and patted his arm in sympathy.

He flinched. Apparently the fall had not only damaged his head and mind; it had bruised and battered the rest of his body. Which sucked, really, because everything already hurt in his heart and now he had to worry about the rest of himself.

Before Kurt could reply, he heard the sqweech of tennis shoes on tile. "Dolphin!" the owner of the shoes screamed.

"Hey, Britt!" he said weakly and slurred, "Wassup?"

"Azimio pushed you down the stairs outside. You hurt your head and wouldn't wake up. It was scary, Kurtie, and I didn't like it. You were leaking red all over the place!" Brittany said in a rush. She came over close to Kurt and gave him a bone-crushing squeeze. He patted her back, as she'd squeezed the movement out of him.

"Well, I'm okay now, Britt." His head was spinning. Why was he at McKinley? Not that he wasn't ecstatic to see his friends, of course he was happy to see them, but wasn't he just at Dalton? Hadn't he lost his balance and fallen down the stairs, not been pushed? Hadn't he texted someone to help him?

Maybe this was his brain's way of preparing for _death_, letting him say goodbye to his bestest friends? Was he in some kind of _Wonderland_, and he was the Alice? Maybe he was dreaming the whole thing.

That must have been it. He was unconscious, in a coma, and he was dreaming. At the same time, he was conscious of the fact he was unconscious and that this world was fabricated by his head.

How strange.

But, in this dream world, he'd never left McKinley.

He internally worried about the world he'd left for this one (and maybe the next). What would happen to his dad? His family? Glee? ...Blaine?

But as he hugged Brittany and Mercedes with all he had, he wasn't that concerned with the outside world. He could worry about that later.

**So... Tell me how you liked it, make suggestions, etc! I'm trying to stay real to the Blaine that lived in season 2, but also keep up with the new I formation season 5 has been giving us, but you'll see that soon.**

**And yes, "sqweech" is a word I made up. :)**

**Sqweech- adj.- the odd squeal like noise often made by the wet rubber soles of tennis shoes**

**-Nightlight**


	2. Chapter 2: Spatching

**Blaine's POV**

Blaine had been happily studying for his history test while listening to his favorite music (mainstream rules!) when he'd received the alarming text from Kurt. Deep panic had swallowed his stomach when he read the _HELP!_ His heart was pounding, his mind was buzzing with clouded thought. His body and mind were experiencing every cliché in the book.

What could be wrong with Kurt?

He calmed. It was probably just something trivial and cute, like clothes or something. Just as a precaution, though, he texted back a _what's up? -Bx._ Blaine went back to studying and rocking out, but he was less enthusiastic than he had been earlier. A heavy stone had settled in the pit of his stomach and rolled around in the back of his mind. What if it wasn't something trivial?

Kurt never texted without signing his name and an "x."

He soon forgot about it completely, the stone shrinking to a pebble, and danced zealously to dozens of Katy Perry numbers before stopping dead in his tracks.

The song that had just come on was "Teenage Dream." (You know, the song that he sang right after he met Kurt?) It made him think of Kurt and with thinking of Kurt came the horror that Kurt hadn't texted back. Kurt always texted back.

Being done with whatever it was he had been doing (he didn't really care right now if Marie Antoinette was a stuck-up bitch), he raced out of his dorm, texting Kurt hundreds of _where are you?_'s.

Blaine kept texting him as he raced down the stairs, going who-knows-where. Panic and guilt were chewing at his insides, making him wish he was better at protecting Kurt.

Noise pricked at Blaine's ears, so he stopped.

In the silence of the halls, he heard a chiming of "Teenage Dream." It was faint, and it came from the bottom of the stairs.

Racing down to the bottom of the stairs (you know, where Kurt and Blaine first met?), his foot skidded on something wet. Blaine looked down, expecting to only see the shine of clear, spilled water.

The shine was there on the (hard and _marble_) steps, but it was not the shine of water. It was the shine of dark red blood.

Blaine covered his mouth with his hand. He felt _sick_, like he was about to throw-up. He walked a little farther down the stairs, blood spatching the once-pristine steps, and saw what (who) was lying in the bottom left corner (you know, the one where Blaine and Kurt met?).

Now Blaine really was going to be sick. He even _tasted_ it in the back of his throat, but Blaine was too preoccupied with his shaking hands and wet eyes that were seeing one of the worst things in the world.

_There_ was _Kurt_. His _best_ friend was lying in a crumpled mess of pale and red and uniform, right in the spot where they met.

The nauseous fog in Blaine's head was pushed to the back by a searing panic. It pushed him forward from his spot where he stood dumbly until he was kneeling beside Kurt's body, turning him over and shaking him desperately.

"Kurt! Kurt- oh my God, Kurt! How- How did this happen?! Oh, dear God, I swear Kurt, you'll be okay, I promise-" rambled Blaine.

Not unlike what Blaine had been expecting, Kurt didn't answer. Precious seconds were ticking by, and he wasn't responding to Blaine's touch.

Three minutes and eight frantic phone calls later, Blaine was grasping Kurt's hand while rocking back and forth, curled into a ball. Wes, David and several other Warblers came zooming down the stairs asking what happened to Kurt and would he be alright?

Blaine didn't have an answer, so he just kept wailing quietly as he tried to squeeze life back into Kurt's hand.

Paramedics and teachers showed up two minutes later. One young woman came over to him with a clipboard and a pen, and asked Blaine if he could answer a few questions.

Normally he would have replied with something charming, but he felt so out of it that he just said yes, he would try his best to answer her questions.

"Do you know what resulted in him at the bottom of the stairs in his current condition?"

"No."

"Does he have a history with things of this sort?"

"Not that I know of."

"Do you know of anyone that might have wanted to hurt him?"

Blaine swallowed. "Yeah," he breathed out, meek.

The woman looked up at him now, cocked an eyebrow, before returning to a normal, near-robotic countenance. "Do you know his or her name?"

He took a deep breath. "His name is David Karofsky, but he doesn't go to this school. I'm pretty sure that he doesn't even _know_ that Kurt goes to this school. It probably wasn't him, if anyone."

"Why does he want to harm...Kirk?"

"Kurt," he said forcefully and continued more quietly, "and Karofsky was Kurt's old bully while at McKinley."

"Do you know..._why_ he bullied Kurt?"

He closed his eyes and, in a single breath, responded, "Kurt's gay."

Both eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "He's gay?"

Blaine met her eyes in a fierce twenty-seconds-of-courage moment. "Yes, he is. Is there a problem?"

Her eyebrows returned and furrowed in a sort of..._disappointed _way. "No. I was just a little...surprised. He didn't really...show it."

It was Blaine's turn to, albeit a little guiltily, raise an eyebrow. Even in uniform the pale young man he called his best friend managed to show off his unique form of fabulousness. In the best way.

"He's cute," she shrugged.

Blaine's hazel eyes itched and stung with hot, salty tears. Ugh. He couldn't stop _crying_, and he didn't even know what had triggered _this_ bout of tears, but now it had started and the woman in front of him had such a detached and pitying countenance and he just couldn't _stop it._

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "My name's Shae, okay? I can see you're pretty shaken up about this... Once we're through with the questions, we can talk, alright?" she said.

The blur in his head subsided, and he nodded. True to her word, he and Shae finished the questions with minimal breakdowns (a number closer to several than Blaine would be proud to admit), and she returned moments later.

"Hey, they're loadin' him into the ambulance right now to take him to the hospital in Lima. Can you... Talk to his parents? They might rather hear from a...friend, of Kurt's, not the hospital," she said.

Two minutes later (with an almost-heart-attack on both Burt and Blaine's part), Blaine finally got to talk to Shae.

Nope.

"I have to run and go with the ambulance, kay, but here's my number if you want to chat. Chances are you'll see me at the hospital, too. I work at Lima Memorial, where 'e'll be. See you later...?"

She was asking for his name, he realized, so he choked out, "Blaine."

"Bye, Blaine. I'm sorry about your friend." She gave his shoulder a light squeeze and trotted off to ride Blaine's best friend's death vehicle.

Blaine almost crumpled the little slip of paper with Shae's number as he usually would with a _girl's_ number, but he knew he would end up calling this one because she would tell him how to stop feeling so sick when it came to Kurt and all the blood he'd been lying in. She would help him with Kurt, nothing more.

A hand came up and grasped his shoulder. Blaine spun around at the touch and was dwarfed (Kurt was still in his head, making fun of his height) in a hug from Wes. "Blaine," Wes said sadly, almost _pityingly_.

Blaine didn't _want_ pity. He _wanted_ to be the strong one, the protector and comforter, not the one who needed those things. But he needed, _needed _this pity, needed this comfort, because Kurt had always made him feel better, and he couldn't remember _how_ to make the bad feelings in his heart go away.

"Wes." Blaine buried his head in Wes's neck. "Oh, God, why does this hurt so bad? It's not like he died or something. But everything hurts. Make it stop. Please, Wes, make it stop hurting."

Wes pulled back and gave him a teary grimace-of-a-smile. "Blaine, I think he's hurting more than you. But he's an extraordinarily tough guy, you know? He'll be fine. Besides, I think he would miss you too much if he died."

"I think so, too," Thad, standing next to the two, murmured dazedly.

Huh. Blaine didn't know what to think without Kurt.

**That was the beginning of Blaine's piece, yea! It'll switch on and off, and I'll describe whenever it changes. I'm just going to say, I will not post regularly. It's weird the way I post, but I've already written about half of this story, and I have planned it out entirely. Reviews are really appreciated, as they let me know if I'm doing my job. I hope you enjoyed!**

**And yes, "spatching" is a word I made up. :)**

**Spatching- noun- an irregular, oddly shaped patch of material such as fur or liquids**

**-Nightlight**


	3. Chapter 3: Quirled

**KURT'S POV**

"We did _what_?!" Kurt shouted.

A few of his favorite girls from New Directions were hanging out at Kurt's house, filling him in on the details of the past few months. He'd been reading at the kitchen table, seeing what his brain had stocked up (one of his more well-read issues of _Vogue_, the one that talked all about scarves) when the doorbell rang. Upon answering it, Kurt discovered four pajama-and-pillow clad girls and their excuse that, hey, he didn't remember the past few months and some crazy shit happened and he needed to know.

"Yeah. At Sectionals, we did 'Born This Way,' and you even got a solo. How could you forget something like that?" Brittany said from her seat lying across Kurt's lap as he petted her hair back.

"I had a solo?" Kurt smiled.

"You _sure_ did," Rachel grumbled.

"And it was fantastic. We even had these amazing T-shirts that showed a part of ourselves that we were born with and sometimes get bullied for but wouldn't change in spite of everything," Mercedes told him.

"What did they say?"

"Well, yours said, 'LIKES BOYS,' -I was super proud of you for that, by the way- and mine said, 'NO WEAVE.'"

"Hm." He fingered some her hair. "I like your hair as is."

"Aw, thank you, boo."

"Oh," smirked Santana, "we almost forgot something. A very hot, _edible_ something."

"Chocolate fondue?" Brittany quirled.

Kurt looked at her, suspicious. "What? Ah-no-I believe it is a who?"

Rachel, too, grinned devilishly. "How could we forget _him_?" Kurt cast his glance among all the girls, and he waited for them to spill the beans.

"Oh, yes, he was a _fine_ piece of man."

"I really want to say _wanky_ right now, but it would be too out of context," Santana murmured numbly. "But you just said it, didn't you?" Brittany mumbled back.

"Are you going to tell me what this apparently important new detail is or am I just going to have to figure it out?" he finally shouted.

Brittany giggled and opened her mouth to speak, but Santana slapped her hand over Britt's mouth.

"I think we can have a little fun with this first, Britt."

"Alright, just don't wait too long, or else Benny'll get sad. He told me that he would be sad without his dolphin, and then he said that Kurt was his dolphin."

Kurt cocked an eyebrow, excited and intrigued, and lunged at the new information. "Who's Benny?"

Mercedes opened her mouth to speak, but was cutoff by a chiming of "Rainbow Connection."

All the girls looked at Kurt, smiling, and he just looked right back. Mercedes sighed. "Aren't you gonna answer, white boy?"

"_Oh_! That's _my_ phone!"

The part of Kurt that remembered he was in a dream was saddened by the fact that his ringtone wasn't "Teenage Dream" anymore. Just how much was different here? What did that mean about him and Blaine? But would that matter, since this was a dream?

He picked up his phone and saw that the person calling him was, in fact, a one Benjamin Courinin. Kurt put it on speaker so the girls could help him out with the boy that had supposedly been locked in the foggy recesses of his mind and set it in the center of their circle.

"Hello?" he answered shyly.

"Kurt, hey! Are we still on for tomorrow?" There was something sunshine-y about the young man's voice, like he was just _so_ happy to be speaking Kurt, and was there a puppy he could hug, because he just felt like the world was beautiful when he was with Kurt, and he should totally be hugging a puppy.

Startled and blanking, he looked to Mercedes for help. She just smiled and said, "Hey, Benny!"

"Oh, hey, Mercedes! Is Kurt there?"

"I got some bad news, Benji boy."

"What is it? Is he okay? Do you need me to come over?" His sunshine-y voice was replaced by a panicked tone.

"No, no he's... Okay, sort of," Rachel said, "Kurt took a tumble down the stairs at McKinley."

"Oh, my God, is he alright?!"

"Now he is, but he was unconscious for a few hours and he lost some blood. He can't remember the past few months."

There was some rustling and quick shuffling before he said, "I'm coming over; I'll see ya in a few."

The call ended, and Kurt marveled at how complex his subconscious was making this dream. It really was a completely different _world_, another place in its entirety.

Moments after the call ended, the girls all turned to look at him, smug and expectant smiles on their faces. He stared back.

But then he gave in. "Okay, fine. Who was that?" He held up his hand when Brittany grinned stupidly, opening her mouth, and he said, "And don't say Benjamin; I got that."

"He's your dolphin buddy," Brittany grinned.

Kurt's eyes widened. "What?" By Brittany's logic...that meant...

"You two are practically dating," Mercedes gossiped, as if she were telling them that all the teachers had weekly orgies on Saturdays.

"What about Blaine?" he let slip from the fog.

"Who's Blaine? Is he a dolphin, too?" Brittany said, astonished.

"You haven't told us about this Blaine fellow. Who's he? I sense drama!" Mercedes said, voice going up on the last word.

Kurt stared. In this world, not only had he stayed at McKinley, he hadn't met Blaine. He... He hadn't met _Blaine_.

"Oh. I... I guess he wasn't... wasn't real," Kurt carefully breathed through his lie, "He must have been part of this... Crazy-" Deep breath. "dream,I had."

The doorbell chimed from down below.

"Woo-ooh! That must be Benny! Yay, let's go see him!" Brittany said, bouncing out of Kurt's lap and clapping her hands.

Kurt eyed the exiting girls warily. What awaited him downstairs?

"Who is this guy! Is he cute!" he covered.

Santana stopped in the doorway, hand on the white frame, and turned to look weirdly at Kurt.

She winked at him and said, "_Wanky_."

**I don't even know... Give me feedback, good and bad.**

**And yes, "quirled" is a word I made up. :)**

**Quirl- verb- to question cynically**

**-Nightlight**

**P.S. I'm thinking about changing my name to Nova Rains. You like?**


	4. Chapter 4: Scrouching

**BLAINE'S POV**

Blaine's head hurt. Like, a lot. Sunlight pulled at his eyelids, but his brain whined for the sleep he so desperately wanted. Instead of getting up for his day like he knew he should, Blaine rolled the covers tighter around his body and tried to expunge all things that weren't sleep.

Why his head was throbbing, he could not fathom, but he sat up regardless after a few more moments of discomfort. Had he forgotten to take his allergy meds? Did Wes hit him with his gavel? Did Kurt-

_Kurt_. That's what happened. Kurt took a nose dive down the stairs, texted Blaine while he was half dead, Blaine _ignored_ it (his stomach churned at the thought), and almost died. Still could die.

Now he remembered. Even the part where he, in all forms of the phrase, had a mental breakdown and then proceeded to cry himself to sleep. And basically acted like a depressing sack of tears that made everyone slightly uncomfortable.

His shoulders sagged, and he flopped back on his bed, hands covering his eyes. How had things gotten _so screwed up?_

Just the day before, he had been perfectly happy. Acceptance, good friends, good songs, good grades, Kurt (his best _friend_, mind you, for he knew of the bets that the Warblers had placed on when the two would be together _romantically_), they were all his. With such marvelous things in his life, there was no reason to cry himself to sleep.

Okay, that's a bit of a lie. He wasn't perfectly happy. Really, he was a kind of half-happy-puppy, half-secretly-depressed-insecure, where the two sides would tussle constantly according to who he was with, what was happening in his life. Even then, it wasn't terribly often he had a legit reason to be sad, so most of the time he, at least, _pretended_ to be the sanguine human-equivalent of a puppy.

But that was different now. Somehow, without Kurt, things didn't seem as...bright, or full. Responsibility was something Blaine couldn't help but feel, even if he knew it really wasn't his fault. What if someone _had_ been hurting Kurt, and he'd asked Blaine for his help, but Blaine never came, and Kurt would die _hating_ him and he couldn't _stand_ that, it made his stomach _twist_, and, God, everything _ached_, and-

There was a hard knock on the door, and, when Blaine didn't answer, Jeff stumbled in. The obviously-dyed blonde's head swiveled around the room a moment before landing his widened, alarmed eyes on the normally put-together young man panicking on his bed.

"Blaine!" he squawked, "Blaine, calm down! What's got your gay panties in a twist?"

Blaine looked at him, confused for a moment. It wasn't until that moment that he noticed he was hyperventilating.

"Okay, B, calm. Calm," he soothed, mollifying Blaine just the tiniest bit, "One breath at a time." Jeff's hand on Blaine's arm, they breathed together, in. Out. In. Out. In.

Out.

"Are you feeling alright, Blaine?" Jeff questioned softly. Their eyes met.

"I- It's Kurt," he whimpered.

Jeff, turned his head, staring away from the boy in front of him. "Oh. Yeah." His voice was meek, like he didn't want to bruise Blaine if he was louder than that. They were quiet for a moment, listening to the sound of he boys outside going to breakfast, before Jeff perked up the slightest bit.

"Hey," he said, "after class, you wanna go visit Kurt at the hospital? Today's Friday, so there won't be as much homework."

Blaine nodded weakly.

As he stood up to gather his things for a lazy-ish day, he turned towards Jeff and asked, "Hey, Jeff?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I...ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Do you know if Kurt's alright? Like... If he'll be okay? Or how he's doing?"

Jeff's eyebrows scrunched subtly at their tops. "He's going to be...Well, he's alive."

* * *

**KURT'S POV**

On the other side of the door stood a gorgeous, gorgeous boy. Momentarily, Kurt stopped moping over Blaine, stopped fretting over everything. His eyes widened as he realized that this must be Benji.

Woah. Just- Woah.

"Hey, girls. Is he here? Can I see him?" the Adonis asked, quickly wrapping his arm around Brittany in an awkward side-hug and flitting his eyes around the room in search.

Santana, hand on hip, roughly pointed to the back left corner where Kurt shyly ogled the beautiful boy. Benji spun around and let out a small gasp of relief, shoulders scrouching as he flung forward.

Kurt was tackled into a tight bear-hug; Benji buried his head in Kurt's neck. "Oh my God! Oh, oh, oh, thank God you're alright. I was so _worried_, so_ scared_."

Kurt stiffened, not really sure how to react to this resplendent stranger who had, apparently, been near a mental breakdown at his expense.

"Um, hi?"

Benji pulled back, arms still around Kurt. His heavy green eyes filled with tears, auburn curls pushed back from his face to reveal his perfectly tanned cheeks. He was about the same height as Blaine, and he was shaking slightly.

It freaked Kurt out a little how much this guy seemed to be attached to him. Or maybe it was how attractive this man looked. At the same time, it was endearing and charming...and reminiscent of Blaine.

Kurt'd read somewhere, maybe, that the people and things one sees in dreams were previously seen in conscious reality, but he was fairly certain he would remember this man. Then again, maybe he was, like, distracted by Blaine or something. The two boys were equally god-like in beauty, so that was highly likely...

The conscious part of him knew he was still in love with Blaine and this was probably just his brain's way of saying, _"I am the only one who will be able to provide you the splendorous love and deep affection you desire."_

The other part just desperately wanted to make this man stop crying.

"So it's true? It really is?" croaked Benji, "You really-lly don't re-remember me? Or, li-ke, any-nything?"

He was wailing now, and Kurt was beyond uncomfortable and weirdly charmed. However, he knew he had to tell the truth, for lying, it seemed, would not spare this man's heart.

Looking at the grass green surrounding his dilated, sad pupils, Kurt slowly shook his head and said, "I'm so sorry."

Mercedes placed a gentle hand on Benji's shoulder. The scruffy young man seemed to remember that there were other people in the room, and he tightly stepped back from Kurt.

"It's okay. You're okay. You'll remember me, us, everything. I won't let you forget."

Kurt smiled, vaguely reminded of both himself and of Blaine. He liked this guy.

Of course he did.

**So, that's that! **

**Sorry I didn't post in so long, I just got busy with having no life, I guess. **

**Benji is super fun. I already love him. Do you? Please let me know how you liked this chapter, whether or not you love Benji, and/or your predictions for the rest of the story!**

**ALERT! IMPORTANT! NEED TO READ!**

**Okay, so, here's the scrub: I am currently in the market for a beta. I don't know if you've noticed, but this story kinda neeeeeeds one. I have some people in mind, but any volunteers would be hugely appreciated.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**And, yes, "scrouching" is a word I made up. :)**

**Scrouch- verb- to sag rapidly in a relieved fashion**

**-Nightlight (soon to be Nova)**

**P.S. Each chapter now has a definition for the words I so carefully crafted! Enjoy, _Frindle_ style.**

**P.P.S If anyone can tell me why this story is called "Teenage Dream," the first person will get an exclusive look at the next chapter! Enjoy, be smart!**


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